When you’re grown and don’t need me as much.

I hope you know I loved those hours spent cross-legged on the living room floor when you were 2 and 4.

Pushing cars, building puzzles, picking up crumbs, letting you play with my hair.

I loved them.

I loved every minute of watching you:

Learn

Grow

Laugh

Figure out your frustrations.

I loved it.

I hope you’ll always remember the quiet moments we shared, just us.

I’ll forever treasure the feeling of tiny hands pressing into the nape of my neck, small thumbs rubbing up and down my hairline in a gesture of quiet affection.

You need me now more than you will in a year, or even a month. You’re learning to do new things every day, learning to do things for yourself. And while I watch you clumsily put your shoes on the wrong feet because you’re in a hurry, or just twirl the hairband around your hair in an effort to get it tied, I know, pretty soon, you might not need me to step in and help you tie that pink bow in your hair.

And when I sigh because you’re calling my name out for the umpteenth time, I’m gently reminded that it’s the most wonderful name I’ve ever had the privilege of being called, and I’m so grateful it’s the two of you who promoted me to that title. My girls, my miracles.

I know I’ll miss them: The days you needed me most to do the least of things for you.

I know I’ll miss tiny eyes staring in search of mine for reassurance when walking into a new environment.

I’ll miss them: The tight squeezes from your tiny hands in mine, or the feeling of you clinging to my lifeboat legs as you look for a way to feel extra safe in moments that seem daunting to you.

I know I’ll miss the sound of tiny feet running around the house when you’re grown, and the toys strewn across the living room floor.

I want you to know that being needed most by you, even on the hard-to-handle days, is the greatest privilege of my life.

I know full-well that answered prayers carry a weight of responsibility only the barer can fully comprehend, And the weight of responsibility of being your mother, has been one that has strengthened me in a way I can’t explain.

You both have strengthened me.

I love being your mom.